There's Nothing Here
by SarahSaysSo24
Summary: Bella and Jake's relationship isn't what it used to be. Bella is desperate to fix whatever has happened but she feels lost and has no idea where to start. And Jake doesn't seem interested in helping. But Bella will meet someone who will make her question everything, even her own morals. It could very well be the thing that destroys everything.
1. Chapter 1

Mondays are always rough. This morning is a weight on my shoulders and chest. I try to focus on cooking the eggs but I've already lost the battle with one of them; the yoke is clearly solid and that's going to drive him nuts. Gotta be dippy he always says. I glare at the second yoke as it starts to solidify. I don't even care.

Because this morning, he told me I suck at marriage. He's said some harsh things before; little pokes at where I'm lacking. But to come out and tell me I'm terrible at the thing I've promised to hold on to until the day I die? That feels like a happy future stolen.

Jacob wasn't always like this. Growing up, he was the only guy I could be myself around. We grew up in each other's backyard, on La Push beach, at the mall in Port Angeles. I can't picture moments in my life before him even though I graced this earth nine months before he did. He was always my rock, someone I could run to, someone I could rely on. His kindness knew no bounds back then. Now, I'm lucky to get an embrace.

The eggs are thoroughly ruined at this point and I pull the skillet from the stovetop. I slide them onto a plate along with a cold piece of toast and set it at the table next to his room-temperature orange juice.

I throw another two eggs into the hot skillet when I hear Jake clumping down the staircase. I hear him enter the kitchen and try to focus on my own breakfast.

"Morning," he says.

I wave my spatula at him without turning around.

I hear the chair screech against the hardwood and the sound of him falling into it. His fork scratches the plate and I hear a loud, obnoxious sigh. He doesn't even bother to point out my poor cooking this morning and for some reason that bothers me more than it should. Because it means that he's given up on me and I'm not worth the breath it would take to correct.

When my eggs are completely overcooked, no way my eggs can be better than his, I take them to the table and sit on the opposite side. I glance up and Jake is staring out the window, his eyes hard, his face tense.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

Jake shrugs and drums his fingers on the table. "Same old, right?"

"Right," I say quietly. In my head, my brain is trying to figure out what happened here. Less than a year ago, our marriage was perfect. Sure, we had our arguments but they were always over the small things and within minutes we'd be in bed celebrating with make-up sex. We used to say that we fought just to have an excuse to make-up. Now, everything between us is a tense rope, strung so tight that we jerk and twitch trying to move away. We still have sex, but that's all we do, and there's no love there either.

"Working late tonight," he says, though he doesn't have to. He works late every night these days. I've stopped wondering why.

"Okay," I say. "I'm going to go shower, be out in a few."

Jake nods.

I quickly walk upstairs. I start the shower and strip as I wait for the water to get warm; I haven't had a hot shower since we moved in together since Jake requires the first shower, which lasts at least twenty minutes every morning. I stare at myself in the mirror as I let my hair down; I know that I'm not ugly but I also know that I lack that spark some women have, the one that makes them sexy. Where those women are fit, I'm soft. My hair has a strange wave that refuses to disappear without forty-five minutes with a flat iron. My eyes are dark and dull, no sparkle there. A year ago, Jake would be in here, making love to me in the shower, now I'm alone in here, wondering where we went wrong.

The shower is quick since the water goes cold within minutes. I towel off and wrap it around myself. I walk quickly to the bedroom where I find Jake. He's putting on deodorant when I walk in. He glances at me and sets the stick down. I don't make it to the closet before he's tearing the towel from my fingers. It lays at the floor by his feet and I'm left naked and shivering before him. He sighs as he pushes down his jeans; he doesn't bother undressing completely anymore. "Jake, I'm not reallly-"

"Shh," he says. He pushes me and the back of my legs hit the edge of the bed. Before I know it he's on top of me. I feel like I'm suffocating.

He sits up, his rough hands grab my thighs, and he impatiently pulls them apart. I feel like a toy; being pulled this way and that way. He leans down and he enters me with a hard jerk. I gasp in the pain that comes without some form of stimulation on my end. He hand grabs the back of my head as he starts hammering himself inside me; it's almost violent. He grunts and groans, sweats pours from his forehead and I notice he's not even looking at me. His eyes are closed and his face is turned away. When he sits up, he pushes my legs further apart, almost painfully, and he looks at me for the first time, as he's ramming, as he's hurting, and his eyes are hard and cold. This is when I know he's not making love to me right now, not like he used to. He's fucking me, in more ways than one.

When it's all over, for him anyway, he pulls his pants back up, runs a hand through his buzzed hair, and looks at me. "Have a good day."

After that, he goes downstairs, grabs his lunch, and slams the door on his way out. I walk to our bedroom window, naked and covered only by my arms, and watch as he jumps in his old truck. While he's backing out his eyes find mine and I see nothing there.

He's gone moments later and I'm left to try and piece together what the hell has happened between us. And when did he start becoming so violent? I'm not sure how to feel but I know one of the emotions is fear.


	2. Chapter 2

There's something to be said about working from home but having had the luxury for the last two years, I question how long someone can keep this up when they're alone. It wasn't supposed to be like this, but things happen, life happens.

A couple years ago I took a job copywriting for different companies. At the time I needed something that would keep me at home but still allow me to continue to contribute. It's far from a dream job but it's steady money, most of the time.

I sit at my computer in the den. My coffee is steaming beside me and I'm typing furiously but I don't think the words are making any sense and before I know it my words start to clip and I can sense the anger in the paragraphs I type. Is this the truth behind writing?

My hands start cramping and I sit back in my chair. To the right is a picture of Jake and I at our wedding and I can see the complete joy on our faces. He's staring at me and I'm staring at him and we're smiling like we're harboring a secret. We had our future ahead of us. I felt more comfortable with Jake than my own parents and sharing our lives together was obviously the next step. I adored him, couldn't get enough of him.

And until recently, that was how it always was. I can pinpoint the downfall to about a year and a half ago. We've been married for four years and for the first two, everything was peachy; then the honeymoon came to an abrupt halt.

I sometimes blame myself but there are two people in this marriage and I can't be expected to carry everything, all the time.

I want to keep writing but that picture is taunting me. I push the frame face down on the desk, attempt another paragraph, and it's still too much. I decide I've had enough and leave the room. I throw on a light jacket and rush out the front door, down to my car. I can hear the waves from La Push from my front porch and I consider going for a walk. I decide against it, hop in my car, and take off toward town. I had promised myself long ago that I wouldn't get trapped in this nowhere town like everyone else; I'd go to college, make something of myself, maybe move to New York and turn myself into a city girl. None of those things happened.

Well, I went to school, but I hardly consider a community college in Port Angeles as real university experience.

I pull out my phone and dial the first number that comes to mind. Thankfully, she answers.

"Hola, mamas."

I smile. "Hey, Al, what are you up to?"

Alice sighs. "Nothing, such a drab day. I'm at the studio."

"Can I-"

"Don't be stupid, I"ll be here," she says.

I laugh. "Thanks, Al."

I hang up the phone and toss it onto the passenger seat.

It takes an hour to hit downtown Port Angeles. I pull into a front parking spot and take the steps upstairs. Alice is the epitome of creativity. She lives for an outlet. The room hasn't changed much. I try not to come here often, it makes me wish for old times, when this was our studio and not just Alice's. Alice and I had met at the local college in an art class; she sat next to me, made a scandalous comment about the nude model for the day, and instantly she stayed in my corner.

Alice and I decided to open a studio for just the two of us and Jake was supportive...until about a year and a half ago. Then the side comments started; why are we spending money on this? What's the point? It's stupid, it's not like it can help us in the long run. Is this just an excuse to hang out with somebody? You can go out for dinner once a month like a normal wife. I broke the news to Alice soon after it started and I feel that I took the news harder than she did. She just seemed angry with Jake.

I push the door open and for the first time it doesn't stick. Alice is sitting at the bar, a half-empty beer in her hand, and a smirk on her face.

"When did you fix this?"

"I didn't," she says. She chugs the rest of the bottle. "Edward did."

"Oh, I didn't know he was here," I say.

"He moved back. Took a position in E.R. with his dad."

I nod. Carlisle Cullen has been a staple in Forks for as long as I can remember. His son, Edward, is a few years older than me, but Carlisle lives somewhere between Port Angeles and Forks and he decided to send his son to Port Angeles; not that I can blame him, Forks High School left something to be desired. I've only met Edward in passing and all that I can remember is that he was the most beautiful person I'd ever laid eyes on, next to his wife, Tanya, of course.

"How's it been having them back around?"

Alice has always kept her feelings on her combined family pretty quiet. Her mother, Esme, was a victim of serious domestic violence from Alice's father. Alice told me once, while extremely drunk off of whiskey sours, that there were nights she could hear her mother screaming as her father pounded on her and Alice sometimes worried that when she woke up her mother would be dead. Instead, she'd leave the bedroom bruised and battered but still with a smile for her little girl. It took Esme years to leave him and when she did she ran right into Carlisle's arms. Alice has had trouble accepting many things in her life, even when her mother found happiness with a man who couldn't have been more perfect for her, she had her doubts. Trust comes at a cost with Alice.

"It's harder to find a quiet space in the house," she says. She waves her arms around the room, "but that's why I have this place, huh?"

I smile. "My house is as quiet as this studio twelve hours a day."

Alice eyes me. "Why? How's Jake gone that long?"

I shrug. "He's just working more hours lately."

Alice rolls her eyes. "You lie like a rug, Bella. What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing," I say quickly. "Same old."

Alice shakes her head. "Something's different, something's wrong. I worry about you, ya know."

"I'm fine."

Alice's green eyes are serious and I can tell she doesn't believe me.

"I want to show you something," I say.

I open the garbage bag I have had hidden in the trunk for days. I pull out the canvas and present it to Alice. She stands from the stool and her eyes widen. She comes closer and fingers the dried paint. "It's...beautiful," she says.

I smile.

"It's also incredibly dark."

I look down at the black and blues that I've used to create my self-portrait and nod.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry I haven't really done the whole "author speak" thing on this story yet. I hope you're enjoying it because I definitely enjoy writing it. So, definitely give me some feedback. Good or bad, I can handle it. And thanks for reading!**

Alice and I are half-drunk after spending the day together. I had tried to leave around noon but she convinced me to stay for a beer and that was many, many beers ago.

We're playing rock, paper, scissors, for no reason in particular. I play paper and Alice plays fire, which I in turn play water. And it goes on like this.

Suddenly, the door handle jiggles. Alice screams which startles me and before I know what's happened I'm on the floor and my head is throbbing.

I hear the door open and Alice is laughing and I'm moaning and laughing at the same time.

"Jesus, what the hell?"

I don't recognize the voice but Alice obviously does because she starts explaining herself. "Listen, listen," she slurs, "we had some beers, listen! We had some beers."

This makes me laugh harder.

"And that's when Bella fell. Don't worry. She's clumsy as hell! She falls, it's her thing. Right, Bella? You okay? Bella!"

"I'm fine!" I sit up cradling the back of my head and then the dizziness hits so I lie back down. "Okay. It's okay, I'm just gonna lay here for a minute."

Alice is laughing again.

I can sense someone next to me, someone leaning over me, and I slowly open my eyes. I look straight into green eyes and I can't tell if they are really that green or if my intoxication is tricking me. "Are those contacts?" I ask green eyes.

The whole face slowly comes into focus and it's a beautiful man; messy copper hair, a square jaw with copper whiskers, soft lips that I feel tempted to touch (thankfully I'm not that drunk), and basically his face is all sharp edges and angles.

I see the soft lips stretch into a smile. "No, no contacts."

"So, they're really that green?" I hear a deep chuckle that sends chills up and down my arms.

"Yes," he says.

"Beautiful."

"Is she going to live?" asks Alice as seriously as her drunken state will allow her.

"I think she'll survive, though it may be touch and go for a while."

Alice can obviously sense his sarcasm so she punches him in the arm. He feigns pain.

"Here, let me help you up," he says. His long fingers wrap around my wrist while his other arm wraps around my waist. He's warm and his touch sends more chills through me. Once we're up, he keeps his arm around my waist. "Are you alright? Got it?"

"Um," I say, swaying a bit but catching my balance, "yes." I look up at him as he releases me. "Jeez, you're tall,"

"Yeah, and Carlisle loves being reminded of that," Alice says with a giggle. "Edward just towers over him, drives him nuts."

I gasp. "Omigosh! I didn't even recognize you!"

Edward smirks. "Ouch."

I blush. "Sorry, I'm a little inebriated. And, in my defense, I've only seen you, like, once."

Edward lifts his hands. "It's alright, I suppose. I'll forgive you."

I fall back onto my stool and push my newest bottle of beer away from me. "I think I'm done. I'm obviously not as good at this as I used to be."

"Yeah, me either," says Alice, "remember the good ol' days? We could down a bottle of tequila in the beginning of the night?"

I nod. "Now, we're all old!"

"Psh! Speak for yourself, old married maid!"

I cringe. "Yeah. No bueno."

"I didn't know you were married," says Edward, who has taken the stool next to me.

"Not happily," says Alice.

"That's not true, Al," I say, "it's just been a difficult year."

"He's a fucking dick, Bella, don't defend him."

I shrug. "We'll agree to disagree." And as I'm saying the words the pounding begins. I'm startled though I manage to stay on my stool this time.

Alice looks around the room, clearly confused as to who it could be. She walks over to the door and peers out of the peep-hole. She gasps. "Shit! It's Jake and he looks pissed!"

"That's because I am fucking pissed!" I hear him yell back through the door.

I jump up from the stool and the dizziness returns. I stumble to the floor once again. Edward jumps up, tries to help me back up, but I push him away, "I got it, I got it."

Alice opens the door as I stagger to my feet. Jake rushes inside and points a shaking finger at me. "What the fuck!"

"Jake, what's-"

"I've been worried fucking sick! You don't get to fucking walk out and disappear for hours! What the fuck!" His tan skin has turned red.

"I'm sorry! I didn't plan on staying so long but we got to talking-"

"Just shut the fuck up, Bella. Jesus Christ!"

"Woah," says Edward, stepping between Jake and I, "Let's all just relax-"

"Who the fuck are you? Get the fuck out of my way."

"I will when you chill out," Edward says firmly.

Jake stands just an inch taller than Alice's stepbrother but Edward seems unphased. Jake walks up to Edward, obviously trying to intimidate him. "Don't tell me how to handle my wife," Jake says.

Edward steps closer. "What kind of man talks to his wife like that?" His statement is calm but I can hear the anger simmering just below the surface.

Jake doesn't reply. I know I need to step in before Jake takes this to a whole new level, one of his specialties. I walk around Edward and grab my jacket. Alice is standing by the door, her eyes wide. She glances at me and shakes her head. "How about you stay here, Bella."

"I don't fucking this so," Jake says, turning around to face her. "Bella, let's go."

I put my jacket on and force a smile for Alice. "I'm alright, Al." I wrap my arms around her, "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

I don't wait for an answer. I turn around and face Jake and Edward. Edward glares at Jake a moment longer and then his eyes find me. I feel like he's trying to tell me something, his green orbs are smoldering.

"I'm ready, Jake."

Jake walks past me angrily. I give Alice and Edward a small wave before following him out.


End file.
